When Graveyards Yawn by G. Wells Taylor (good books for high schoolers .TXT) 📕

Her calves might have been too fleshy for the average man, but for me, they held backbreaking possibilities. I’ve always found strength an attractive quality in women—and simplicity. She wore a blue corduroy frock dress that unzipped down the front. The act of sitting and crossing her legs had sent a chill through me that had little to do with Tommy.

Ms. Redding’s eyes were made from blue ice and were divided by a serious vertical line in her forehead. She was one of those enviable people who had the ability to hide all of her emotions. Her eyes acted as doormen and would allow only those feelings that had invitations. The flaw was the fine line between them. That was the gatecrasher. Through that came the chaotic moments, the flare-ups. I would keep my eyes upon that fold of flesh. Right now, her expression was of frank and somewhat obscene sensuality. When she dipped her head in such a way, I could feel the temperature in the room go up. She was so alive I could feel her heartbeat from across the room. Tommy’s erection showed approval. I folded my hands over it.

“The coffee’s ordered,” I said with a gesture toward the phone. “Cigarette?”

She shook her head, then drew a pack of her own from her purse. They were long, slim, and the strongest on the market. A lighter flared in her hands, the cigarette glowed.

“Where’s your partner?” Her eyes did a quick scan of the room. They looked up to the broken ceiling fan. I followed her gaze, didn’t see him up there.

“In the outer office, the waiting room.” I gestured with my cigarette. Ash fell from it, powdered on the corner of the desk and sprinkled the floor. So much for the suave act. “There’s an all night coffee shop down the street. It’s late, so we’ll be taking our chances with it, but they deliver anytime.”

“Everything is, these days.” Her words were clipped.

“Is what?”

“Everything’s open all night.” She smiled through a cloud of smoke like a hungry demon. Her head tilted. “Why haven’t I heard of you? Surely one of your cases has drawn enough attention to warrant a couple of lines in the Gazette.”

“Hot night, isn’t it.” I almost walked over to the window to open it. Instead, I slouched.

“They say it’s going to get hotter.” Her smile was all teeth.

“They say a lot of things.” I grinned back at her.

“They do.” She crossed her legs, drew in on her cigarette.

Elmo entered with a box containing six large Styrofoam cups. He set them on the desk. One day, I had to find the patience to use the coffeepot. We’d go broke entertaining this way.

“I paid the man,” Elmo said, scooping up one of the cups for himself, pulling the office door shut with his free hand. I knew he would take it back to his seat in the waiting room, drink it with abnormal speed and then continue to stare at the door. He might read one of his old newspapers.

“Thanks,” I said to his back. My eyes returned to Ms. Redding. “I don’t trust Authority—never have. Most of my cases begin quiet and end quieter. I’m not in the habit of telling Authority anything. Money is my game, not headlines. Detectives who get famous tend to get dead.”

“How about justice, are you into that?” Her legs crossed again; I caught a flash of silvery silk. My heart did a back flip.

“Yeah,” I said, pulling out a drawer and dumping my heels into it. “I mean, all these people, all the buildings, there must be a scrap of it somewhere. I guess you could call me an optimist.”

“Is that why you paint your smile on?”

My gut cramped around a mouthful of coffee. Tommy rattled awfully close to the surface. I must have let my guard down, because the lunatic managed enough control to curl my lip into a sneer. I fumbled for a cigarette to cover it.

“I’m sorry.” She climbed to her feet, grabbed a cup of coffee, and slid one round hip onto the desk to my left. “I didn’t mean to upset you—but it’s hard not to notice. What’s a big lug like you have to hide from?”

“Yeah,” I said in explanation. She had shaved her legs today and she wasn’t wearing nylons. “What did you want to talk about?”

Her smile faded. “Ah,” she said, dropping her eyes into my lap. “I thought we were going to be friends.”

“Why don’t we ease into it over a few questions.” If the erection thumping my chest said anything, Tommy was awake and listening and wanted to be friends. “How did you find out about Adrian tonight?”

She sighed in a heart-melting way, and carried her coffee back to the company chair. After crushing her cigarette in the ashtray, she said. “I’ve got a friend in Authority who tips me off when there’s action. He’s kind of a clusterfuck…” She breathed more smoke. “He wants me. Naked.”

My eyes slid to her knees again. “It takes a long time to get good contacts in Authority. How long have you been with the Gazette?”

She smiled. “Only about three months. Freelanced for years before that…but I was lucky, I guess. I met my contact when he tried to pick me up at a bar. I knew he was an asshole, but I was a reporter out of work, and you never know.”

“I guess hard work pays,” I said, then changed the subject. “You were at the Morocco for the Billings murder, and you found Cotton. You are a lucky girl.” I smiled this time.

“Same guy called me then, as tonight. This friend called me and said there’d been a murder the night before at the Morocco Building—the Billings murder. I went, looked around, of course Billings was already down at HQ by then, when my fotog stumbled on Cotton’s body. I picked up the story about drug dealing